Support

My leg clicks gently like a metronomone might warn me that I've lost rhythm.
If my hip could hurt more, I wouldn't know or care to.
Every step I rise and fall, the telling sound of joints scraping, it all makes me wince.
I'd love to go limp, and fall where i stand, embracing the ground in my relief.

I remember the coldest winter nights.
My shoes stared up at me in the morning with their mouths gaping open.
Just like my starving children would, weeping for a meal I couldn't provide.

I would force my feet against the well worn soles, ignoring the slight pain in my left leg.
It must've been how I would never give up these shoes that now I'm crippled. 
I had never doubted their love for a moment, but their support had left me long ago.